Sort-of Celebrating
Puck was waiting – hiding – at the Big House when we came to pick him up mid-morning. I think El Oso finally found him scrunched up under the cabinet in the kitchen waiting to surprise us.
As we were standing in line at the Target check-out about twenty minutes later, we ran into an old acquaintance from our graduating class. Considering that there were only 23 students in that class in the first place, this is no small feat. Even when you consider that probably about 70% of that class still lives in St. Louis. St. Louisans stick around.
Celebrating Gloria’s birthday one day late meant stacks of pork steaks and ribs from the barbecue man on the corner, with sides of sweet potatoes and more barbecue sauce.
Fat multi-colored roses sat in a silver vase on the counter, a gift from Theodore. Gloria also unwrapped a set of four exotic bird drinking glasses from our little family.
Izzy had joined the gathering around the counter in time for lunch, and an hour later so did some visiting friends from Bad Axe, Michigan, with their fourteen-month-old daughter named after her great-great-grandmother.
Puck migrated to the basement to watch “Rio 2” where I sat on the opposite couch and researched ISBNs and CIP blocks. Izzy napped on the opposite couch next to Puck – Francis-style – while the baby napped upstairs. The lack of heat in middle November inspires drowsiness.
It was cold.
Upstairs once more, Puck was curiously entertained by watching the baby toddle around the rug chasing after the cat. Eventually she charismatically wandered over to Puck in a wobbly state and placed one fat hand on Puck’s leg. He giggled nervously.
“Uh … uh … hello.”
“Hi!” she squeaked.
Tentative smile. “Hi…”
As the afternoon ended and it was dark by five, the snow began to fall. Puck ran outside, double-suited in his new orange-ness.
“Mom! Mom! I dragged my finger through the ground and licked off all the snowflakes! IS THAT OKAY?!”
Well, too late now anyway.
“Mom! Mom! I scraped this snow off my shoe! CAN I EAT IT?!”
Larger, fast-falling snowflakes, making visibility sketchy on the drive home, with a sack of sandwiches for dinner.